


meadow close

by snailthesaints



Series: socially awkward dorks share a kitchen [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Awkward Conversations, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sweetheart!Gerard, Sweetheart!frank, actually more of a one shot, based on real life, fucking adorable, i want to hug them, read this they're so cute im gonna cry, socially awkward dorks, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 03:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6837589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailthesaints/pseuds/snailthesaints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which frank's shitty temporary accommodation has a shared kitchen and guess who lives next door</p>
<p>[possibly the first of a one shot series possibly a stand alone thing idk lets see how my motivation goes yeah?]</p>
            </blockquote>





	meadow close

**Author's Note:**

> so this is basically all true in my life except from the frank-iero-living-next-door bit, like i just mean it's 7am and 3 hours ago i was stood in the kitchen exactly how gerard is described, thinking it'd be really weird if someone came in rn, and thus a fanfic was born.
> 
> [note: i live in the uk so idk if u even get places like this in america or if it even works like that, like i tried to americanize it as much as possible (the cheese i had was GRATED and from ASDA)]

Frank had been living in this ‘emergency accommodation’ for about 3 weeks now.

He’d been fired and after being unable to keep up the rent, an eviction notice had rattled through his apartment’s door. So with most his belongings and a fuck ton of anxiety in tow, he’d made his way down to the local housing-office-place-thing and just his luck, he got handed a pair of keys to shithole square with the promise it’d be a 6 month placement at most - but as they crossed paths in the laundry room, the ‘family’ in number 8 who would not stop fucking screaming at eachother had told him with a shit eating grin how they’d been there 2 years, so he kinda accepted that he’d live there a bit then die there.

It was actually called ‘Meadow Close’.

It was shit.

He had a ‘bungalow’ - a small living room, an even smaller bedroom practically buried in the bathroom (gotta love stinking out your room with your own shit right?) and half a kitchen shared with the people next door (does wonders for that social anxiety).

He was grateful to have a roof over his head though, and he had at least _tried_ to make it somewhat his own, sticking posters and magazine snippets over every wall and adding a padlock to the kitchen door so no next door nutter could kill him in his sleep.

The weirdest thing, Frank found, was that he had not in fact met whoever might as well’ve shared a house with him. If it wasn’t for the coffee pot on the opposite kitchen counter being in slightly different positions every morning and the occasional hum of the telly through the paper thin walls, he’d have assumed next door was empty or the occupant(s), like, dead.

 

It was a Friday 4am when that changed, and he _had_ planned on going job hunting, but apparently insomnia had different ideas as he staggered into the kitchen, looking for something, not that he knew what.

What he was not in fact looking for and surprised him to find, was a man, in the kitchen, leant against the counter, wearing a grubby hoodie that was somehow simultaneously two sizes too small and two sizes too big, faded skinny jeans that clearly weren’t done up because the crotch sat halfway down his thigh and the legs bunched up at the ankles, with greasy, knotted black hair falling across a face that was stained with the red ink that covered his hands for some fucking reason, holding a large bag of walmart value shredded cheese and eating it with his fingers as if it were a packet of chips.

Frank was taken aback by this guy who he assumed was his neighbour, and the guy stared at him, wide eyed.

Unsure how else to respond, Frank looked him up and down, taking in everything, the bags under his eyes, the ill fitting clothes, the budget brand of cheese and cracked a smile.

“Fucking same”

The guy gave a shy laugh and ran his hands through his hair, revealing his face a little more - a round one with soft features and a cute smile.

“You- you want some?” he offered, passing the bag to Frank.

“Okay” Frank smiled, cuz his stomach could go fuck itself. He felt a little bad as he stuck his thumb and forefinger down to the bottom of the bag, avoiding the layer on top that’d been tainted pink, conscious of where this man’s hands could’ve been. 

“Thanks” he added, as he dropped the pieces into his mouth, savouring the taste of lactose.

“You’re welcome” the man nodded, running his hand through his hair once again.

“I’m not actually meant to eat cheese because I’m lactose intolerant, so that mouthful was a nice change” Frank commented, not entirely sure what the fuck this encounter was.

“Wow, uhm, I couldn’t handle that”

“Oh? Do you eat a lot of dairy?” Frank mentally slapped himself.

“Not- not really, just, uhm, cheese”

Frank hummed.

“Be careful. Gives you nightmares.”

The man nodded, and then pulled up his jeans in the least graceful way possible, yet utterly adorably.

"Sorry, uhm, n-nobodies gonna, like, wear, uhm, skinny jeans for, like, 10 days, and not, uhm, undo the top button" he stuttered out, ending on a small giggle.

“Nobody.” Frank agreed “So, I’ve not- I’ve not seen you around”

“Yeah, uhm, I’m a bit, uh, I’m a bit of a vampire and a hermit” he blushed.

“Oh okay. I’m Frank, by the way”

“I’m Gerard”

“You been here long?”

“Um, 9 months”

“Shit, have they said anything to you about moving out yet then?”

“Nope”

“I’ve been told I’m here for 6 months, then they’ll find me somewhere proper, but looking at everyone else in this dump, I’m gonna be here much longer”

Gerard gave a small chuckle.

“It’s- it’s not that bad really, once you get used to it”

“Yeah, I suppose. So will you be- be in the kitchen again anytime soon?”

“Uhm” Gerard rocked onto his tiptoes “Probably- probably making coffee at some point”

“Nice, uh, I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah, uhm, maybe, yeah” Gerard smiled, tucking back into his bagged cheese.

With a small wave, Frank slid back into his apartment.

And then, of course, because he was a socially awkward dork with a mind like a sieve, he realised he’d forgotten whatever he went into the kitchen for - a drink maybe?

He contemplated forgetting about it and trying to sleep, but of course that’d just look weird to Gerard (not that Gerard didn’t look weird as fuck (he liked it)).

Gerard was still stood there, eating the cheese, as he re-entered the kitchen, the man tensing at the movement, before giving a smile.

“Just getting, uhm, yeah-” Frank hunched over, as if decreasing his height even more would make him invisible.

Gerard nodded as Frank reached into the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice.

With another smile, Frank went back into his apartment, closing the door behind him, leaning against it, taking a long gulp of juice straight from the bottle and wondering what the fuck just happened.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u enjoyed also follow me on twitter @terrorofkncwing and tumblr dont---try


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